


Lesson Learned

by PixieShips



Series: Agents In Distress [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixieShips/pseuds/PixieShips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Go For The Ego Boost. Jemma never thought she would need to use that particular lesson ever... though it definitely saves her life and that of her team. But it's the aftermath she really never saw coming, even if someone is there to catch her.</p><p> </p><p>Meant to go along with most of the first season, so Pre-Hydra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Practical Application

**Author's Note:**

> So Ego Boost was meant to be Flirty Fluffy Fun, but then this just sort of happened. I've decided not to ruin the fun of Ego Boost and post this separate. I'll introduce you to Valriz in later chapters, and talk more about what happened to get to the point where this starts. I would suggest reading Go For The Ego Boost first, but I don't think it's entirely necessary. No, Jemma will not be traumatized, disgusted yes, but she's an adult.

She was desperately wishing she had not sent Fitz to bed now. Definitely kicking herself for that decision right about now as the once charming Agent Valriz demanded the ammunition from behind her back. She had a brief thought to the imminent danger handling these deadly bullets in such a way would create, but as of right now she was more concerned with keeping them from being fired at her. The ricin virus was not something to take lightly and she would not be the one responsible for arming this mad man with it to use on the rest of her team.

"Don't make me shoot you little lady." He mocked, pointing his gun directly with her heart that threatened to beat out of her chest. She spared a quick glance to the crumpled figure of Skye before instinct seemed to consume her. He stepped right into her personal space and Jemma grabbed the back of his head rather than the gun. Jamming her lips to his, she swallowed something between a curse and a gasp. She could feel the adrenaline pouring from him even as every fiber of her being began to feel dirty in the worst way. But it worked…he lowered the gun just a fraction to get closer to her and press it in her side instead. He yanked at her hair demandingly while Jemma fought her urge to cry. Where was Ward? May? Even Coulson or Fitz would be a welcome sight right then, but she had a terrible feeling they were laid out like Skye. She fiddled with the magazine behind her, letting her right hand trail the edge of the table for what she knew to be there. She yelped in pain that seemed to delight the mad man when he dug his nails into her upper arm. Apparently, not fearing the arrival of her team to her panic.

"Well this is a much better reception." Valriz sadistically mocked her only to bite her bottom lip before demanding more of her attentions. Jemma felt the gun in his hand start to lower and she made herself focus on that rather than the tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She had never felt more violated and it was a desperate struggle to maintain her composure. It was the faint click, missed by the homicidal maniac that grounded her. She hoped the tensing of her shoulders did not give her away, but if he had even the slightest indication of what she planned he did not act. Jemma had never needed to fool anyone she enjoyed certain activities, despite what anyone thought of her past relationships. But just then she called on every acting skill she had ever witnessed on bad television to produce a moan she most definitely did not feel. Distracted by the alternative pursuit Jemma had laid out before him, he did not notice when she dropped the magazine into the biohazard lined trash compactor. She nearly gagged as his hand began to slide over her hip, but instead she closed the bin. If she were able she knew she needed a deep breath to work up the courage for her next act, but she did not have the time as his hand wandered lower yet and at a rapid pace.

Pulling back from him sharply, Jemma pressed the button on the compactor and made a wild grab for the pressure point on the man's gun hand. It was only a split second before Valriz realized the sounds of crunching metal. He unconsciously pulled the trigger, but Jemma managed to slide under his arm while holding his wrist, not feeling the heat of the bullet that grazed her ribs due only to adrenaline. He did not fight her simply because she did not attempt to disarm him, instead running into the cargo hold as fast as she could. She did not stop to think about Skye still lying motionless as she passed, her only thought getting away from the man now screaming in the midst of a desperate attempt to rescue his intended weapon. Jemma threw her arms over her head as she climbed the spiral staircase, bullets ricocheting around her as he divided his attention when it became clear he was not getting that bin open in time to save his technology. She fell at the top of the stairs scraping her knee on the anything but soft carpet, but it was only a breath before she found her feet out of self-preservation. She cried out in both fear and pains as she moved further down the dark hallway, the setting sun her only light through the fortified windows.

"Jemma?!" She heard Fitz scream somewhere to her right as she continued to run, knowing it was only a matter of time before Valriz caught up to her to seek his revenge.

"Simmons, open the door!" Ward's slightly calmer voice called further down the hall and Jemma felt a quick moment of guilt when she bypassed the door to Fitz bunk. Rationally she knew Ward was the best choice to take out a man hell bent on killing her and a good portion of the human race, but it still tugged at her heart to hear her best friend screaming her name.

"How?!" Jemma cried in panic when Ward's bunk door refused to open even as she used Coulson's master code for his door lock. She hardly thought Coulson would find the time to reprimand her for listening to, and not reporting, Skye for discovering the code in the first place. Jemma found herself banging on the door that separated her from Ward desperately, not noticing the blood that tinged her taste buds from the small cut to her lip she worried bigger.

"Pull it from the wall." Ward instructed, oddly calm even as Jemma barely managed a shallow breath, desperately trying not to hyperventilate.

"Simmons, pull the panel from the wall. You'll see a pair of color coded wires, just like a bomb okay? I just need you to disconnect the power from the door and I can force it open." He coaxed and Jemma was not aware she made a rapid whimpering sound even as her fingers dug into the wall, cutting the pads of her fingertips.

"The Screwdriver! JEMMA I left the 'lectronic screwdriver in the lounge, should be right behind you!" Fitz finally called out stopping his desperate recitation of her name. Jemma scrambled backward, her eyes going everywhere in panic even as she looked at the half finished project Fitz had left on the coffee table. In her desperate search, Jemma missed the screwdriver twice before her eyes finally zeroed in on it. She took the three steps back to Ward's door almost as if flying, her hands only steady from years of exposure to 'handle with care' type of materials. She got the first screw out quickly, but she could hear nothing over the pounding of her own heart. The second screw hit the floor and Jemma bit down on her lip once more, a small unconscious shiver of panic taking hold of her. She slipped on the third screw, but hurriedly corrected herself. She had just dropped the final screw from its place along with the screwdriver when she thought she heard cursing…and not in a tenor she could recognize in her sleep.

"He's coming!" She screamed louder than she should, yanking the panel from the wall.

"Green, Simmons. It's green." Ward, now a touch of what she felt was well placed panic in his voice. Jemma pulled harder on that wire then she'd ever thought herself capable. There was a hiss from the edges of Ward's door that had Jemma scrambling to grab hold of the right edge, memory the only thing guiding her to grab the side she needed to. It was disturbingly heavy, but Jemma knew if she didn't get this hunk of worthless metal out from between her and Ward she would not be struggling to breathe much longer. Her forearms screamed in protest as her feet slide on the carpet. She made out Ward's hand beside her own as they both yelled in frustrated effort. She did not know how she heard it over the pounding in her ears, but Jemma picked her head up from moving the mountain of steel between her and Ward. The click drew her eyes to the gun once more pointed at her before the positively seething demon behind it. There was nowhere for her to run. This was a straight hallway; even if he missed a few times he would hit her at a range of thirty feet. She had no way of knowing how many bullets he had, but she did know he'd passed his Shield field assessment unlike her.

She let her eyes close, dropping her hands from the door, at an odd peace suddenly. She could swear she heard the swirling of air as she had from her fall off the bus, but there was none of the fear. If anything her heart slowed and she sagged in defeat. When the fall came it was unexpected enough to jar her back from her weightless state. Jemma opened her eyes sharply as Ward's hand disappeared from around her arm and she found herself lying on his bunk. She couldn't find the air to scream as Ward jerked in front of her, red flying in all directions including her face. Jemma watched truly terrified as Ward fell to his back, raising his gun still and the bullets were finally thrown back at their attacker. It was the scream of agony from Valriz that finally jarred her from her shock. Jemma found herself calling out his name as she scrambled to her feet. She held onto the doorframe as the bullets continued to fly back and forth. It was only when they stopped and Ward lowered his weapon that she stepped out into the hallway, no longer at all concerned with being the one shot.

"Grant?!" She cried as she rapidly took in the blood soaking the already god awful colored carpet. Instead of let her apply pressure to the bullet wound she only found because of his shirts hole, he grabbed both of her hands, not an easy task as they were already slick.

"Fitz….Fitz, Simmons. Now." He winced in pain and it took a second longer than she was proud of to rise to her feet and find her chosen aid underneath his back. Ward raised his weapon as she moved down the hall, smearing his blood on the hallway wall as she used it to stay upright. She blinked the tears she'd not even noticed from her eyes as she accomplished freeing Fitz marginally quicker after Fitz talked her through a manual reset of the panel. It was actually somewhat soothing to be directed by her oldest friend in such a manner, a hardened edge of determination in his voice. He took one look at her, presumably to make sure she was in once piece, which was debatable, before moving around her. Jemma, as if on autopilot moved back up the hall after grabbing the blanket she'd knitted for Fitz's twenty-third birthday off his bunk. She ripped at where she remembered the troubling stitches and as she predicted it gave way. Ward grabbed hold of Fitz's arm as the pair kneeled down to his level. Fitz looked decidedly uncomfortable with the red being streaked down his forearm, but he said nothing as he moved to grab hold of Ward's hand in both of his. Jemma shoved the ninety nine cent a yard fabric into Ward's chest causing him to curse. Ward threw his eyes to the ceiling only a moment before he returned to staring straight into Fitz's gaze.

"May…Coulson…Skye." He managed to get out the pain clearly making it hard for him to even think, his teeth grinding as he tried to talk through it.

"Jemma." Fitz looked over to his friend who only picked her eyes off Ward's wounds a split second. It was all she needed to know what they were thinking.

"No, I'm not leaving Agent Ward to die…He hit Skye to the lower… in the lab…" She motioned toward her neck, not able to meet their eyes. Jemma did not flinch like Fitz when she grabbed hold of the still burning hot muzzle of the handgun beside the injured agent. She shoved it into Fitz's hands and while he stared at it a long minute he did eventually clear the weapon of a spent shell.

"Under…the bed…" Ward looked in the direction of his bunk, Fitz following his instructions without a word. Jemma apologized softly at the grunt of pain Ward released as she applied the full weight of her upper body to his chest. When Fitz reappeared through the small opening carrying a Smith and Wesson and a full mag pouch no one said anything. Ward lifted his arm to take hold of the weapon, snapping the safety off before his energy faded and he let both fall to the floor.

"May…first." Ward advised, to Fitz' rapid head nodding. Jemma removed one of her hands from Ward's chest only quick enough to squeeze her best friends forearm and then he was gone down the hall none of them knowing where their attacker had stumbled to. The logical part of her brain knew she should attempt to get Agent Ward talking as they waited there, for what neither of them knew. If anyone could put this situation to right it was the Calvary, but the longer she dug her hands into Ward's chest the more she worried Valriz would come back before then. She jumped when Ward grazed her ribs with the back of his unoccupied hand, pain finally registering along with the rip in her now crimson blouse, the white long having faded from even memory. She found herself desperately wanting to comfort him, but lacking the words.

"Please attempt not to perish Agent Ward, it would be most inconvenient." She whispered, still fearing they would be revisited. When he attempted to laugh, the very sound painful to her ears Jemma winced for him. When she heard footsteps Jemma threw herself over him, even as he cradled the back of her head to him, pointing his weapon in the direction of the sound. She closed her eyes, clinging to Ward as she shook once more in panic. She was nearly deafened by the sound of the gun going off, not even registering there were several more behind her. Ward managed to look over to May, Coulson, and Fitz as Valriz tumbled down the spiral staircase, finally dead. Coulson and May lowered their weapons, as Fitz scrambled to the injured agent's side sans the weapon now in Coulson's grip.

"How's 'e doin'?" Fitz asked softly, pulling Jemma from Ward's chest, even though she resisted for a brief minute in panicked shock. When she managed to register his voice she looked up to her superior officers, conveying the desperate situation to them with only the glance.

"I'll change the course to the nearest Shield outpost. May…secure our guest." Coulson ordered in what had to be the most frighteningly devoid voice she had ever heard. May simply nodded, moving toward the stairs with purpose and a, "With Pleasure".

"Fitz…we need to get him downstairs." Jemma managed when Ward groaned. Fitz paled but he nodded, both of them slinging the agent's arms over their shoulders. Ward cried out in pain but to his credit he tried to walk for them. He was barely managing shuffled steps, but it was something. By the time they reached the lab, May had tied up the body of Valriz in what looked to be parachute cords tight enough to make his veins continue to bulge even as his heart no longer beat. She had Skye up in a chair, a bag of ice pressed to the back of her head. Skye cried out in alarm when she caught sight of them, only to be forcibly put back in the chair by a hand to the shoulder by May. May moved to help them heave Ward onto the table, after it was rather carelessly cleared by a swipe of Fitz's arm. Jemma was not in the frame of mind to reprimand him for the action which destroyed three of her current projects, and two of his own. Blessedly none of them hazardous, as she stored those when finished religiously to avoid another helmet situation.

"What do you need?" May asked, taking hold of both of Jemma's shoulders to stare her down when the woman couldn't move save to stare at the bleeding man in front of her. Shaking herself out of it yet again, Jemma worried the cut on her bottom lip.

"Bandages, lots of bandages." She muttered, pacing to Ward's side where Skye had moved to hold the man's hand.

"Fitz, scissors." She ordered, a strange numbness sinking in to her every bone. There would be time enough to stop, to think. It was not right then. Fitz handed her a truly gruesome looking pair of scissors he usually used for cutting metal. Jemma cut down the length of Ward's black t-shirt, May helping to throw the useless fabric from his skin while setting the emergency kit in between Jemma and Ward.

"What do we do?" Skye whimpered catching Jemma's attention only a second before Ward squeezed the woman's hand in what she assumed was meant to be reassurance, but it only caused Skye to start yelling at Jemma for a plan of action.

"Quiet." May snapped at the young woman, the threat of violence by way of a slap lingering in the air. Picking up the scalpel she'd held in her hand nearly every day since childhood she could not find it in her to remember how to use it.

"Hold him down…this is going to hurt…badly…there isn't time…if it's a Ricin round…" Jemma trailed off as Coulson joined them. Skye grabbed hold of the arm nearest her, Fitz taking the other as May moved to lock his legs in place.

"I'm very sorry about this…" Jemma muttered in guilt as Ward threw his head back in pain, Jemma cutting into his already torn ribcage. When he began to scream, thrashing just enough to dislodge Skye and Fitz, Coulson moved to grab both sides of the man's head. Holding his eyes, Ward exhaled, Jemma pausing in what she considered the closest to torturing someone she would ever come.

"Agent Ward, there is a rather attractive young woman trying to save your life. I'd suggest you let her because I assure you there is no overtime in it if you don't." Coulson, sounding more like Coulson to Jemma's nerves, managed to say without the panic she felt.

"Yes…Sir." Ward ground his teeth, balling his hands into fists as Skye and Fitz grabbed his arms once more. Jemma chanced a look to see him holding Coulson's stare as she continued her pursuit for the bullet lodged in between what she knew to be the sixth and seventh rib of his left side. When she felt a different kind of resistance she knew she'd found it. Yanking the knife from him, Jemma grabbed the forceps she typically used to move the smaller vials of hazardous materials around. He screamed when she placed the tool into his chest. She winced, his blood having slowed its rapid flight from his body, but still making it difficult to see. She wiped almost helplessly at the substance meant to keep him alive before she retracted the forceps, the bullet firmly in her grasp. Ward seemed to linger between consciousness and oblivion as Jemma dropped the mangled metal to her microscopes slide after ordering Skye to put pressure to his wound.

"It's not Ricin." Jemma exhaled exhaustion clear before she tried to shake it from herself. Moving back to Ward's side their attention was drawn to an alarm sounding around them. May took off at a run, but Coulson just pointed to where he still held Ward's stare and the rest of them stayed.

"I'm just going to stich you up then, Agent Ward, if it's not to terribly difficult." Jemma tried for lightheadedness, calculating the odds of lung puncture silently. They weren't high since he'd not had any trouble breathing that she saw, but she knew only an actual doctor could rule it out completely. When he didn't even flinch at the needle she retrieved from the kit she grew serious instantly.

"He's losing too much blood." Jemma nearly cursed, confused when Skye called out for Fitz, who looked just as confused.

"You're AB+, so is Ward. Can't we just…" Skye waved between the two men, only Coulson managing to find the energy to question how she came to that conclusion. Jemma knew she'd care later about Skye having hacked into the teams Shield files.

"That's something I can do." Fitz nodded, scrambling to his workbench to fasten just what Jemma did not know as she finished the last stitch to Ward's chest. Raking her eyes down the rest of his body she discovered a darker stain to his left thigh. Picking up the scissors once more she fumbled with his belt one handed.

"What are you doing?!" Skye called out, grabbing hold of Jemma's arm. Rather than stop to console the woman or attempt to explain herself, Jemma simply grabbed Skye's hand and pushed it hard into the sight of what she would guess was another bullet. Skye shut up instantly, but it was May's voice over the intercom calling for Coulson that distracted her. Coulson gave Jemma perhaps the most confidence inspiring look she'd ever received, and it did wonders to combat the exhaustion taking over the numbness. He helped her to remove Ward's belt before disappearing up the spiral staircase. Being careful to cut just Ward's dark wash jeans, she did not have the energy to blush like Skye at the man's boxers.

"One problem after another." Jemma exhaled, removing Skye from her way with a not so subtle hip check. "Fitz?!" She called over her shoulder as the agent-in-training took up residence on Ward's thankfully uninjured right side.

"Almost go' it…" Fitz called distractedly as Jemma finally managed to clear the blood from her vision. It had not hit the femoral artery, of that she was sure simply because he'd have been dead by then, but the thought prompted Jemma to grab for the vital sensors. Placing them on his chest and neck she couldn't help but run her thumb down the side of his neck more to console her than him as he'd fallen unconscious. She pulled herself from a quick stare at his strangely peaceful expression before picking up the forceps once more. Skye looked away, taking in the same thing she had and Jemma did not blame her. She desperately wanted to be the one holding his hand, not the one carving into him like a thanksgiving turkey.

"Almost…" Jemma whispered to herself as she pushed a little further into the muscle of his leg, all else forgotten. "Got it." She exhaled in relief, dropping the bullet beside the other. Grabbing the same needle Jemma set to sewing her uneven stiches. They were not pretty by anyone's measure of such things, but she knew they would hold until an actual doctor could see to him.

"Ricin?" Skye asked when Jemma set the needle down, the woman almost having forgotten to check. Falling into the chair Skye had occupied not long ago Jemma rolled to her microscope.

"No." she announced to a collective sigh.

"How we doing?' Coulson called from the lab's entrance at the same time Fitz released an exclamation of triumph. Fitz fidgeted but he held out the needle in Jemma's direction. When Skye grabbed it first, Jemma simply threw in a few words of advice before she landed the needle successfully in Fitz' arm. He looked uncertainly at the table behind him, the elaborate device needing to be hooked up to Ward but unmovable. He was visibly flustered, until May joined them and simply kicked the table to Ward's feet. Skye muttered an apology to her superior officer as she hooked the needle into the vein in his right forearm.

"Good Work Simmons." May broke the tense silence as they all watched Ward's heart beat on the monitor behind them. Jemma looked over to her before down at her hands, discovering not a single place in her vision that was not colored red.

"Sir…he's in need of a doctor." Jemma lifted her eyes only after Fitz had rolled just enough to grab hold of her right hand. She realized quietly she must look a sight by their stares but she hardly had the energy to care.

"He's gonna get it. Slight clearance confusion, but we're ten minutes out from a Serbian outpost."

It was eight minutes of silence with Fitz not knowing who to look at her, Skye, or Ward before May returned to the front of the bus to land. Skye refused to take her eyes off Ward's face, and Jemma found herself falling asleep despite everything. There was an ache starting in her side, but she was so exhausted she ignored it. Her head landed on Fitz's shoulder before the sensor alarm went off. Jemma snapped instantly awake at the panicked called from Skye, adrenaline surging through her already abused veins. She turned her blood shot eyes to Ward's heart beat on the screen to find it slowing.

"No…" She whispered more to herself as she scrambled back to the man's side. She looked over him as she had for the damned screwdriver before grabbing hold of Skye's shoulder over the table. Skye supported her without knowing why, while Jemma threw her legs onto either side of Ward's torso. She was careful not to touch the angry stiches with her knees. Placing her hands over his heart she began CPR, something she had surprisingly never actually learned in her studies but a summer lifeguarding class as a child. She counted aloud to the beats of her hands as the sensors registered it was having the desired effect. Every ligament in her arms screamed to be released from the pain of movement but Jemma simply continued to count out the beats of his heart. She ground her teeth after what seemed like forever, Coulson keeping her upright as the Bus came in to quickly to what appeared to be a short landing space. Even through the bumpy landing, Jemma kept her eyes on Ward's pale face. The cargo hold door lowered almost instantly after the Bus skidded to a stop. A frigid breeze greeted them as the team of Shield doctors they assembled came running and Jemma had never seen a more beautiful sight then the slightly overweight men, several sporting long untrimmed beards. She was so relieved to turn over the CPR to someone more qualified she missed the right hook Coulson endured courtesy of Agent Clint Barton followed quickly by a leg sweep from Agent Natasha Romanov.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed some team bonding after torturing them last chapter...

"You deserved that." May said in typical fashion as she helped Coulson off the ground. Jemma scrambled to move out of the doctor's way, managing to fall to her bottom painfully. Fitz hesitated only a second to help her up, most likely because of the blood still clinging to her. She didn't stop to reassure him as she would in all other occurrences, instead moving around the table. Fitz followed quickly behind her, arms poised to catch her as if at any minute she'd fall backward.

"His pulse slowed exactly two minutes ago. I removed two bullets from…" Jemma tried to inform the men, but found herself silenced by Ward's hand twitching in her direction. Moving closer to the side of the stretcher the stronger men had hauled him onto, she could not manage a single thought. She stood frozen as if he meant to attack her, simply because he was still fighting for consciousness after everything. She'd just tortured him for peat sake!

"Je…Jemma…" Ward whispered as his nose and mouth were encased in an oxygen mask. She made to grab his hand after a few moments in which they were both swallowed by activity, but found she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him. She felt the stinging in the back of her eyes that denoted the silent tears falling down her face, but it was the back of Ward's knuckles trailing down her skin that she really felt. She sucked in a breath as everyone seemed to still momentarily to stare at the stubborn man.

"Ow…" Jemma jumped when Ward's hand dropped as if lead straight down her injured side. Stepping back from him she ran straight into Fitz, but while attempting to help by folding his arms around her, he simply tore another yelp from her. Fitz released her instantly, her pain drawing one of the four doctors to her side as Ward was rolled away, a heavy woolen blanket thrown over him.

"Fury is gonna shit himself." Barton half laughed, embracing Coulson as if there were not a care in the world drawing everyone's eyes. Coulson didn't seem comfortable with the affection, but he tolerated it, even managing a small smile.

"I don't see a reason he needs to know." Coulson looked at Romanov meaningfully before the agent was taking Barton's place, though clinging to Phil a little more tightly.

"'K, someone needs to reboot Romanov…" The older man managed after a minute when the Black Widow did not release him.

"She's been spending too much time with Steve." Barton earned himself a glare for his efforts, but Romanov did release him. "Should have known Sitwell wouldn't think this up on his own." Barton scoffed, tearing a reluctant smile from Agent Coulson.

"A feel good mission didn't seem his MO." Romanov nodded, moving back to Barton's side as if a magnet.

"Well, Simmons did shoot him; felt I owed him something in exchange. You know May," Coulson motioned toward Agent May as if trying to pawn the pair off on her.

"Melinda." Romanov greeted, the two women actually shaking hands as Jemma suppressed a blush at having a part of her blouse torn away to treat her.

"Skye, Fitz, Simmons." Coulson nodded to each. Skye raised her sleeve to her mouth to stop what they all knew would be a rather embarrassing comment. Fitz managed a small laugh at the sight, waving at the two legendary agents. Jemma picked her head up from watching the doctor tape gauze to her side, but she knew her smile came out more of a wince then friendly.

"Dead guy?" Barton asked, motioning over his shoulder. Unintentionally drawing Jemma's eyes to the sight she'd managed to avoid until then. Her eyes locked in on the face of her attacker, and even Fitz could not tear her away for several minutes. She bit her lip hard, sending a small trickle of blood down her chin, suddenly feeling as if slime were working its way over her skin. Fitz tried to lay his hand to her shoulder as she leaned back on the table, but she shook him off, not wanting to spread what she considered a contagion.

"Agent Valriz. We were flying him south to the sandbox after mopping up a supposed alien weapon cache. Turned out they were man made biological weapons. Seems he wanted to sell them, possibly duplicate them, we don't know." May informed as if simply talking about the weather, but whereas Skye and Fitz fidgeted, Jemma could not tear her eyes away from the small scowl on Agent Valriz's face. When the doctor finished taping Jemma he moved to shine a light into Skye's eyes after being informed she was hit with the butt of Agent Valriz's gun. Coulson seemed the only one noticing Jemma's state, moving to her side only to be followed by both Barton and Romanov as if he might disappear into thin air. The two legendary agents spared a glance to each other, identical looks of amusement lingering before they turned back toward Coulson trying to get Jemma's attention.

"You Agent Simmons?" Barton stepped right up into Jemma's personal space finally drawing her sharply back to what was in front of her. She jumped, nearly managing to sit on the table top as she scrambled for something to steady herself. Fitz grabbed hold of her left arm, worry lingering in the air so heavily she felt it might choke her.

"Yes…I'm dreadfully sorry…Agent Barton is it?" Jemma tried to be polite, but she found her eyes flickering into Valriz's direction every half a second.

"Think I owe you a drink for saving my Junior Agent." Barton smirked, putting his hand in the exact wrong place on her other arm, but Jemma couldn't make her tongue work again.

"Think what we need is a nice warm shower. Huh Simmons?" Coulson eased around Barton to all but demand Jemma meet his eyes. Once she looked up she found herself inching closer to their commanding officer. She jerked every inch, not sure she really should, but Coulson said nothing. When she raised her arms halfway up Jemma started to shake uncontrollably. Coulson eased his arms around her shoulders, not appearing to care about Ward's blood lingering on her.

"Easy Jemma." He coaxed as she continued to shake, unable to think or process everything that had happened to her. She jumped on reflex at the stab of a needle but she did not pull away from Coulson, if anything clinging to him tighter…until the sedative injected in her arm by Agent Romanov kicked in and she passed out in the man's arms instead.

"Well that's one way…" Coulson laughed, even as he transferred Jemma's weight to Agent Barton, Fitz fussing over his best friend after a moment of intimidation by the legendary agent's mere presence.

"Shouldn't we…I don't know, check on Ward?" Skye finally managed to say, though May raised an eyebrow in her direction as it came out more slurred than the woman had perhaps noticed.

"Mild Concussion." The still nameless doctor piped up even as he moved to exit the Bus without saying anything else. His heavy accent made it almost impossible to discern what he'd even said before his departure.

"May, see if you can keep Skye awake long enough to fix whatever that jerk did to the computing systems on board." Coulson ordered, reaching over to move a piece of hair from Jemma's face mirroring Fitz's worry for a moment.

"Roger. Let's go loopy." May grabbed Skye's forearm just shy of lightly, knowing the woman was not up to fixing the problem that had kept them all sectioned off from each other, but going anyway. A mild concussion was not the worst fate Skye could have met having been snuck up on, but May would be sure to keep her awake until she was sure the young woman hadn't suffered any lasting damage.

"Not that I'm complaining, I mean I gotta agree with Grant, she's pretty, but I just got this suit back." Barton laughed sarcastically, jostling Jemma even though the woman did not move, off in a peaceful sleep that would not last long enough for any of them. Nodding, Coulson lead his former agents and his lab duo off the Bus. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, but Coulson found himself looking up at the flurries that continued to fall.

"Why were we not informed?" Romanov asked outright, grabbing hold of Coulson's arm to stall him from joining Barton and Fitz. Barton paused at the decrepit looking doorway to look back at them, but seeing Romanov's hand around Coulson's elbow seemed to be enough to reassure him. When both men disappeared into the shack of an outpost Coulson sighed, still thinking about what Fury was going to do to him for overriding the standing no contact order. In his defense Ward would live, because if he didn't he'd be hearing from Coulson personally. But he was bound to hear it, having known full well Barton and Romanov were at this particular outpost.

"I'd get to finish the entire series run of Super Nanny by the time Stark finished his tantrum." He raised an eyebrow in Natasha's direction when she did not release his elbow.

"There was a funeral." The Russian spy said after a minute of silence that grew between them. Despite growing what others would call awkward, Coulson was too well acquainted with her to think much of it.

"Fury decided it was need to know." He sighed, knowing he did not have the answer she wanted.

"You pulled Ward out of Paris." Natasha sighed, finally letting go of Coulson as it dawned on her. She knew Ward, not as well as Barton, but Coulson did not need to tell her it was because he'd had a link to them. She was after all the Black Widow.

"Sitwell's not to terrible a handler actually, but then again you and Barton aren't exactly a cake walk." Coulson picked up, sharing more information discreetly with the woman as they resumed their trek out of the cold weather, Coulson's suit only providing so much warmth.

"Steve misses you." She poked fun at him as they knocked their boots on what appeared to be a bulk head of a submarine riveted to the floor. Despite knowing it was a joke, Phil couldn't help but have a slight feeling of fan boy hope combating the serious worry in the pit of his stomach.

Jemma groaned at the obnoxiously bright light that stung her eyes into closing just as she'd opened them. Her first thought was to the integrity of the Bus, since the only thing she knew of to put her in so much of an aching pain had to be a plane crash. She chanced opening her eyes once more after a moment, but it was slow progress until she managed to stomach the overhead light. It was not as bright as she had originally envisioned more of a dusky glare but it still stung her sight painfully.

"Easy does it." A decidedly female voice said, seeming to scream in her mind but in truth May had barely spoken above a whisper. "You don't want to wake Fitz. He's been up checking on everyone all night." The older woman informed her even though it took a few moments for Jemma to process as her drug induced slumber left a fog of confusion she worked to clear. She found herself staring up at May from a hospital bed, a raggedy blue curtain pulled for privacy behind the level seven agent. It took her yet another moment before she realized May was gently cleaning the right side of her face with a well-worn and slightly cold dish towel. She relished the cold a brief moment before the events that lead her there began to come to her mind. May did not stall in her even and surprisingly gentle strokes, removing god only knew what from Jemma's hair.

"Is…Is he alright?" Jemma finally managed to say after a very long silence, only moving a little to see Fitz asleep upright in what looked to be a floral lounge chair. She doubted he was getting the proper lumbar support after spying a giant hold in the side, Styrofoam sticking up at odd angles.

"Fitz or Ward?" May asked, no judgment in her voice, but she did tilt her head as she moved to Jemma's left side, continuing her oddly comforting poor excuse for a sponge bath. Jemma was not proud of having to think about it for a minute, but she knew with any high dose sedative she'd be in a brain fog for a while yet, perhaps even hours. When May reached behind her to move a white curtain, if one could call a sheet on a clothes line a curtain; Jemma nearly started to cry. Ward did not look alright, by any stretch of the imagination. The IV and blood being pumped back into his body were causing a nasty looking bruise on his arm. The oxygen mask over his face was the only other thing Jemma could make out from her position. She sat up without thinking about it, her world swimming just enough to need steadying courtesy of May's forearm. She grabbed hold of her side unconsciously, not even noticing her blouse had been replaced by one of Ward's t-shirts. When she did notice once her vision had cleared she imagined they had simply grabbed the first thing on the laundry stack.

"He's breathing on his own. He woke up briefly four hours ago. Demanded to be within sight of you and Agent Barton knocked him out before he could do it himself. He was worried about you. Fitz has been moving from that chair, to that one. I'll be surprised if he didn't give himself a cold coming out to the bus so many times to check on Skye. Coulson is being monopolized by Agent's Barton and Romanov." May informed her as if a status report on every member of their team was what she'd asked. It made sense for May to need to know where everyone was, but in that moment all Jemma cared about was reaching Ward's side and verifying the information for herself. May didn't chastise her like Fitz would when she reached her feet, instead letting the younger woman lean on her for support. Jemma half fell, half hobbled over to Ward's beside, lifting her eyes off the leaning floor to take in his vital signs. His heart was beating normally and his coloring had drastically improved from the Bus hallway.

"I think I should sit down now…yep most assuredly should sit back down." Jemma muttered, May all but carrying her back to her bed. Fitz snored softly, almost erasing the unease in her stomach, but Jemma found herself continuing to hold onto May like an anchor.

"Easy Simmons." May repeated as if it would make Jemma's nerves calm, but she had no such luck. Jemma even found herself hyperventilating before she fully shook the full fog from her mind. May yanking the pillow from the bed startling Fitz awake quickly. May shoved the cotton stuffed head rest into Jemma's arms, removing the pillow case. Fitz scrambled to his feet once he'd blinked the sleep from his eyes. He clumsily climbed onto the bed behind Jemma, his arms going around her shoulders in a tight and reassuring embrace. May twisted the horribly colored brown pillow case to her satisfaction, creating a bag that Jemma did not need prompting to breath into. When the door opened to admit Coulson and a trailing Skye, Jemma could only look over at them in a panic she did not feel in control of at all. She was a brilliant woman and she knew there was nothing that could harm them, especially with two members of the well named Avengers, but it did not stop the fear from taking hold of her.

"Jemma?" Skye squeaked, looking as tired as Fitz, if not more. Coulson and May seemed to share a look over the panicking woman's head as Skye moved to sit beside her. As if sensing the tension in the four bed room, the heart monitor attached to Agent Ward seemed to beat just a little faster, though that might have been Jemma's imagination.

"You're safe Jemma. Everybody's okay." Skye tried instead, a little more empathy coming through as she moved a few damp locks of Jemma's hair. Slowly Jemma managed to get control of herself, embarrassed beyond belief that she'd fallen into a panic attack. She tried to apologize, but Fitz simply held her tighter as she dropped the pillow case bag. May patted her hand while Coulson simply walked over and checked on Ward before coming over to her, turning his nose up at the choice of furniture.

"Nothing to worry about." The older man ticked, clapping his hands together as if that was the end of the conversation, and any lingering fear still sitting in Jemma's stomach. The attempt at levity actually helped despite the seriousness of the phantom hands ghosting over Jemma's skin. "Think its past bedtime though. Ward'll be up gripping about being on restricted duty by tomorrow morning, and I for one need my eight hours to deal with that. Fitz, Skye, you two bunk here…they look less infected then the rest of this Podunk paradise."

After the senior agents left it was not long before the bed jockeying began, both Fitz and Skye claiming their beds to be the most uncomfortable pieces of filth ever created. While it wasn't unheard of for Jemma and Fitz to fall asleep beside each other, she was grateful when Skye didn't comment on Fitz lying down behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist. She found herself comforted by the familiar, though the last expression of Agent Valriz lingered behind her eyes making sleep near impossible. When Skye crawled unapologetic into the double bed on Jemma's other side no one said a word. Skye was careful not to further injure Jemma after she yelped from Fitz attempt to get comfortable. They eventually found the energy to laugh at themselves when the three of them could not move their legs for a massive tangle of limbs, but Skye fell asleep first. Jemma did not blame her, the woman having probably wanted to sleep for however many hours Jemma had gotten but been kept awake by the terrifying efficient Agent May. Fitz breath on the back of her neck did not help Jemma find sleep, but when she gently slid herself as high up on the bed as she could go she felt much better. Skye's head was cutting off the circulation in Jemma's right arm, but she didn't have the heart to move the woman. Her arms were sore like the rest of her, and she was slightly happy about the numbness that accompanied being the woman's pillow. It was three hours later that Jemma finally managed to close her eyes, grabbing hold of Skye's hand resting on Fitz's.

She woke not an hour later in a cold sweat, crying against her wishes. She inhaled deeply, nudging Skye's hair out from under her nose in an attempt to dispel the nightmare. She squeezed Skye's all but dead hand in her own, a pins and needles sensation working up her arm. Jemma leaned backward just enough to reassure herself Fitz was still there, his figure having taken the place of Skye in her nightmare. Exhaling in relief, Jemma tried closing her eyes again, but found herself needing to turn over and not able. It was another hour before she managed to stomp down the urge. She lifted her head to an embarrassing loud pop, but a satisfying release of pressure. With a sigh she settled her head back on the pillow, not aware of the security feed being watched by Coulson, or May forcibly tearing the Buses' television remote from his hand and shoving him toward his bed. It was two hours after that when a swear, that sounded oddly creative, woke her from the same nightmare. The dream demanding to be played out no matter how Jemma tried to manipulate events for a successful rem cycle, she was almost happy for the interruption. That was until she made out the figure falling into the chair Fitz had occupied over Skye's shoulder. Her eyes widened and she jerked to sit up, but found she couldn't manage it in the strangle hold the other two beds occupants had around her.

"Don't wake them." Ward whispered hurriedly, raising a finger to his lips, her view unobstructed since no one had bothered to turn off the overhead light. She had a brief thought that May left it shining on purpose before Ward let out a hurried hiss. Concern and a need to help him swallowed any remnants of her nightmare, but Ward shook his head and nodded to where she held Skye's hand. She looked him over, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, but at least he'd not torn out his transfusion.

"You should not be out of bed!" Jemma whispered harshly, turning quickly to look at both Fitz and Skye, worried she'd woken them, but both remained motionless save the movements of their eyes behind closed lids denoting sleep.

"Go back to sleep Jemma." Ward exhaled, the use of her first name the only thing stopping her from releasing a torrent of aggravated concern for his welfare in the form of a long winded lecture. He winced before lifting his left leg to rest on the marginally higher bed, his foot finding the small space at the back of Skye's curled knees. Jemma found herself calculating the pain killers that were most likely running through him, but no matter which drug she pictured, none of them had him up and moving!

"Pushing yourself to death achieves nothing Agent Ward." She managed to chastise, her voice rising before she hurriedly corrected herself. Rather than answer her, Ward simply rolled his eyes, adjusting the rolling pole beside him. Jemma felt horribly useless as she saw the pain flicker across his face, but he'd asked her not to wake Skye and Fitz. She was two seconds from doing just that before he leaned back further into the chair and finally met her gaze. She could not fully place what she saw there, but the need to reassure herself he was real had her jutting her hand out toward him. She jostled Skye's head doing so, but Jemma was more concerned with reaching Ward then waking her. Ward sighed softly, looking down at her hand a few moments before sliding his left hand into hers. He squeezed her still numb fingers a few quick times before leaning his head back onto the wooden support of the chair.

"I'm not going anywhere." He said without looking over at her and she didn't know if it was meant to reassure her or himself when he continued to squeeze her fingers.

"I'd be most upset if you did." Jemma confessed, squeezing his hand in return. She made out a tiny smile at the corners of the man's lips before his head rolled in her direction and he closed his eyes. Taking her cue from him she tried to do the same, but found herself staring at him instead. Exhaustion, both mental and physical finally claimed her a time later, Agent May having taken over watching the video feed from her position beside Coulson's sleeping form. She crossed her legs, leaning against his head board as he snored softly facing away from her. Keeping watch through the nightmares though no one asked her to. She couldn't undo what had been done to them, but this…this she could do.


	3. Life Is A Heavy Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason Ward didn't want to get close to the team. A reason why he liked working alone. Jemma really didn't mean to wind up seeking comfort from Ward, but reality often blurs when you are exhausted and stuck in a nightmare where your friends die over and over.

Jemma clenched her fists tightly beside herself as she continued to stare at the spiral staircase from her position on the lowered cargo hold. May didn’t appear as troubled by the blackened edges of the railing as Fitz. After two days, and countless complaints from Ward about being immobile, they had found themselves back on the Bus. Ward, having found a pair of crutches she suspected had been stolen for him by either Romanov or Barton, was trying not to openly lean on the short bus. Skye was hovering as she had begun to do the second she’d woken up with the headache from hell. May simply barked about wheels up in five minutes as Coulson continued to talk with the two Shield agents that had not given him a moment’s peace since they had landed.

 

“Jemma?” Fitz’s almost heartbroken whisper called her focus as she watched his hand linger on what she knew were bullet holes. If she closed her eyes she could still hear the ricochets, but she was determined not to. She wondered to herself about the amount of pressure it would take to injure her palms with her fingers as she clenched them tighter, but instead her eyes went everywhere. Shrugging in a sorry attempt to reassure him, she did not acknowledge the eyes of Ward or Skye on her. She was wishing this outpost had the resources to fix the Bus, but instead here they were; on their way to the Hub, scrubbing their plans for the Sandbox. Wondering how long she could get away with putting off boarding the Bus, she shot her eyes up to Ward.

 

“Fitz, she’s okay. Let it go.” His low and smooth calm washed over her and she saw a moment of indecision on Fitz’s face, and a sense of indignation at Ward’s butting in between him and Jemma, but he did as Ward said with a huff. She watched him stomp into the, blessedly cleaned up, lab before sighing herself.

 

“Skye…” Ward mirrored her, leaning more heavily on his right side, noticeably trying to keep the pain off his face.

 

“You need help up the stairs? I can totally do that, I mean I’ve never been on crutches before so I don’t know how you do the whole stairs thing up if you wanna lean…” The young woman began to ramble. A habit Simmons had come to associate with her when she was worried or nervous. Before Jemma could determine which Ward rolled his eyes.

 

“Skye.” He barked, all his patience apparently gone, having been used on Fitz. Skye snapped her lips shut, standing a little straighter for it. Jemma could see the guilt in her face then. It had not escaped the biochemist’s notice. It hadn’t apparently escaped Ward’s either, but Jemma was hoping he’d know what to say to the woman. Skye blamed herself, and Jemma hadn’t been able to find a minute to tell her she didn’t think the same yet. Valriz had snuck up on them, how was Skye supposed to know she shouldn’t have turned her back to a fellow Shield agent?

 

“Skye.” Ward tried again, his voice dropping back into the calmness Jemma would never think of the same again. “Fitz could use someone to talk to.” He suggested with a small measure of affection sinking into Jemma’s heart, drawing a small smile from both women.

 

“Look at you, Mr. People.” Skye teased, raising her arm as if to punch his shoulder before she stopped halfway. Ward raised his eyebrow at Skye as she awkwardly lowered her hand, fidgeting side to side. When none of them said anything Skye frowned, jerking her hands over her shoulder meaningfully before a few stumbled steps took her in the labs direction. Jemma wasn’t quite sure why her heart rate jumped a beat being left alone with Ward. Granted they had been more familiar with each other since her humiliating slip up with Agent Sitwell several months ago, but at the moment words just seemed to fail her. She at least prided herself on the fact she was no longer staring at the bullet holes May had been grumbling about the last two days.

 

“Simmons?” Ward shifted down further toward her eye level. It would have been an amusing sight to see him sagging on his crutches any other time. She let out a soft sound to confirm she had heard him, but instead of actively engaging him she turned to look behind her. Barton and Romanov were apparently threatening Coulson and she frowned at the finger in the man’s face. She’d have been alarmed if she didn’t see the small smile on the older man’s lips.

 

“Pst…I’ve maneuvered my way out of an SO lecture so far, but I don’t make it up those stairs before Coulson I’m toast.” He chuckled softly though rather forced and Jemma was startled for a moment before she looked rapidly between him and the staircase in confusion.

 

“Oh.” She called finally understanding the silent request. She blushed softly stepping in behind him as he hobbled his way to the first rung. Taking the right crutch from him before the other she frowned. About to reprimand him for abandoning his supports after having extracted two bullets from his person, Jemma found herself instead watching him jump sideways. It was such an odd sight, Ward using the railing on the right to pull himself upward while lifting his left foot to hit each step, she simply tilted her head. It didn’t look at all comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but the feat was surprisingly agile and she found her eyes narrowing in confused fascination.

 

“You should watch him do a climbing rope. It’s fairly appealing until you remember it’s Ward.” Agent Romanov startled her so bad, Jemma dropped his crutches stammering. Halfway up the staircase, Ward spun gracefully on his one good leg, his other bent at the knee as his hand reached to his blessedly empty hip holster. She envied his balance as she scrambled to pick up his crutches and he suppressed his reflexes.

 

“Damn it.” Ward sighed, throwing in a soft chuckle that eased Jemma’s embarrassment just a little when he leaned more heavily on the railing, all pretense gone for a moment as it wouldn’t do him any good against Romanov.

 

“He left it on your voicemail, you know better than to step into open fire and if you get shot again there will be a refresher course; three strikes Ward.” Romanov declared without so much as a glare, but Ward descended into a wince quickly.

 

“The Czech?” He asked, trepidation dripping as Jemma looked between the two agents, feeling out of place but curious against her better judgment.

 

“Moscow. It’s my turn.” Romanov tilted her head and Jemma couldn’t help but imagine she could kill someone with just that tiny movement.

 

“Now that’s incentive.” Ward continued to wince, closing his eyes as if in pain a brief moment before he shifted uncomfortably.

 

 “It’s supposed to be…you’re not doing that girl any favors going so easy on her.” Romanov nodded her head toward the closed door of the lab. Jemma’s eyes flicked over to where Skye was set on the holo-table, Fitz seeming to talk endlessly as he walked around her. She frowned, looking back up at Ward, but she saw him nod at the Black Widow.

 

“She’s not an agent; I’m trying not to scare her back to her van.” He genuinely laughed, the sound making Jemma uneasy, but it earned him a small smirk from the red head still standing beside her.

 

“Barton and I dealt with the other matter.” She cryptically switched topics as Jemma clenched his crutches to her chest. The sudden set of Ward’s shoulders told her she did not want to ask like Skye would have. The pair of agents simply nodded to each other, before Romanov turned to leave.

 

“Watch out for him.” The Black Widow threw over her shoulder to Jemma who simply stared at the back of the woman’s head between mortified and awestruck. It wasn’t until Ward let out a huff, disappearing around the bend that she remembered what she was supposed to be doing instead of lingering on what the deadly assassin had meant. Jemma held out his crutches to him awkwardly as he leaned on the wall beside Fitz’s open bunk door. He seemed lost in thought then, and she was glad when he simply started down the hall, but she came up short at the red streak across the wall. Glancing down Jemma knew the blood rushed from her face at the remnant of his on the floor.

 

“Hey…” Ward called softly, evenly balanced in the doorway of his bunk. She tore her eyes away from the spot at his feet, not knowing how long she’d stared at it, but by the look on his face it was a while. Jemma found herself drinking in the sight of him then, panic welling up in her gut before she moved without thinking about it. Stepping over the reminder of how close he’d come to giving his life for her, Jemma knew she startled him when her arms wrapped around his waist. Tucking her head into his shoulder she took a deep breath as he didn’t appear to know what to say or do. She halfway believed he had to resist his urge to defend himself against her innocent gesture.

 

“You okay Simmons?” He sighed after a minute, Jemma trying not to descend into another panic attack that she’d been struggling with since she’d awakened to find herself alone the last two mornings. She knew if she opened her mouth she was going to sob, and she had already embarrassed herself, so instead she simply shook her head. She pulled away from him awkwardly trying to starve off the tears the image of his broken body beneath her hands produced. She wished he’d have returned her embrace, but knew it wouldn’t have been easy on him with his injuries so she chose not to read anything into it.

 

“They’ll get rid of it at the Hub.” He finally stumbled to say, but Jemma stopped herself from correcting him. She wondered a minute why he thought she was more upset at the sight of blood, then the fact it had come from him, but she found herself closing her mouth. He seemed to forget that she regularly dissected human tissue since joining Shield. That she had performed ocular surgery on a ‘rouge’ shield agent without a problem didn’t seem to come up at that moment.

 

Attempting to shake her head she shrugged her shoulders a little too high like Skye tended to do on occasion. Disappearing down the hall and into her bunk, Jemma didn’t check on Fitz like she probably should have. Fitz was angry with her and she knew it the moment after they’d all woken up in a tangle the morning after everything. He was trying not to be, but she knew something had shifted when she chose to open Ward’s door instead of his. Logically, as she’d insisted to him several times over the last day, Ward was the one that could protect them. Fitz had not taken that well, and she imagined it was due to her hitting him with the fire extinguisher before her fall from the Bus. He was trying to hide his insecurities from her, and Jemma was trying to be patient but the fear in her stomach was making everything harder these days. She’d survived much worse, but that hardly seemed to be a comfort at the moment when she felt responsible for the lives of her team. She’d decided long ago not to go directly into the field of medicine, though her parents had urged her to put her skills to use in organizations such as Doctors Without Borders. She couldn’t watch people die, as selfish as that was given she was forced to do it anyway as a member of Shield, but not Skye. Not Ward, Fitz, Coulson, or May…not when their survival depended solely on her. It had her seriously reconsidering her excitement and happiness aboard the Bus. She’d typed her resignation twelve times in the last day, only the random interruptions of passing people stopping her from hitting send every time.  Though she suspected they weren’t quite random when Coulson continued to show up whenever she sat a computer in the last days.

 

However, for now the largest concern was being placed on Ward and his injuries. None of them had looked at the security feed yet that she could tell, and for that she was grateful. Though she knew it was only a matter of time before the concern was going to shift off Ward and the Bus, and onto her. In truth she wasn’t sure if she needed that or not. While a part of her had been trying to process just how she’d gotten away, for the most part she didn’t think she’d had enough time. She was an adult, and while it had only been one kiss she couldn’t help but shutter in disgust at the phantom pulsing in her lips. Crawling into her bunk, Jemma turned onto her good side, exhausted more from all the activity in her mind than anything else. When she fell asleep she knew she wouldn’t have been surprised. The nightmares had kept her awake more then not lately. She didn’t know what it said about her that it was always the death of someone on the team and never herself that reduced her to such an unprofessional mess craving…what she didn’t know, stability perhaps. Comfort she’d gotten from everyone, but it did not starve off the feelings that Valriz was still lurking outside her door.

 

Bolting up in a cold sweat, Jemma was out of her bunk before she registered the sun had set or that the Bus was in the air. She stumbled a moment before righting herself, looking around wildly at the dark hallway, unable to still her heart. She tried to work through the panic, but in her nightmare haze she expected Valriz to pop up where she had last seen him armed and prepared to shoot. She took three steps backward, not taking her eyes off the shadowed end of the hallway. Reaching out for something solid she sucked in a breath of fear at the cold surface of metal. The doorway in her hands was eerily familiar, and she remembered forcing the door to the side, the metal still partially open. In her half asleep state due to exhaustion she didn’t have the grip on reality to remember Valriz was dead, just that he had stood at the end of that hallway. She needed to get to Ward, he was the Specialist, he knew what to do.

 

She squinted through the opening, her fear starting to wane in the presence of the puzzle of reality mixing with terror. It was longer then she cared to admit before she realized when she pulled the wire she’d effectively broken Ward’s door unlike resetting Fitz’s. She spied movement from the opening and found herself slipping into the room, the opening barely big enough for her to do so sideways; she wondered how she’d landed on his bed when thrown through it before, reality slowly coming back. She caught the glint of the gun in her face the moment she raked her eyes in Ward’s direction. Sucking in a breath her eyes widened before she heard him swear, sleep deepening his voice. When he lowered the weapon she realized it was a Night-Night gun, or an ‘Icer’ as Fitz reminded her constantly now, but she found she couldn’t move for shock.

 

“Jesus, Simmons, are you trying to get yourself killed? What the hell?” He snapped at her, the gun finding the floor beside him with a groan of pain. Rather than answer him as Jemma opened her mouth to do, she let out a sob that caught his attention. Starting to shake she knew she should just go back to her bunk and salvage what she could of her dignity. Really only a mad man would wake up Ward, especially injured. She shook her head, trying to will her feet to move, glad she couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness before he shifted. She watched him groan in pain as the rustling of his blanket stood out to her and he put his back to the outer wall of the Bus. Jemma stared at his silhouette a long moment before she took the invitation she wasn’t sure he really knew he’d given her. Sliding her legs under his blanket as she went, Jemma jumped across the small divide, burying her head into his neck as her arms went around him like she’d done that afternoon. He did not react just the same as before, seeming to be out of his element by the small hitch in his breathing and she imagined a look of startled horror was probably crossing his face at that moment.

 

“You keep dying. You all keep dying, I need only close my eyes. You told me to use every advantage, but I feel as if I should not have left Skye and I very nearly killed you. What have I done? He could have killed her, and you…” She shook, holding in a sob even though it half escaped and she knew he heard it.

 

“Jemma, calm down. Everybody’s okay.” He huffed as if in irritation, but she realized in the same breath he’d shifted to run his fingers through her hair, a marginal improvement from his stone composure. So distracted by the feel of his blood on her hands long ago she didn’t even pause at the use of her first name. She tried to keep her eyes open even though she could see nothing, his window shade shutting out the stars because she could smell the cooper tinge of his trauma even now. She did not need to see his thrashing as she carved bullets again as well. She felt the beginnings of long forgotten tingles of pleasure after a quiet moment, but she ignored it in favor of reassuring her senses that Grant Ward was in fact alive. He did not in fact smell like blood, but the spring scents of their shared laundry detergent and a tiny bit of gun powder.

 

“I’m not.” She shook her head at the same time, tears she hadn’t let herself cry starting to soak into his skin. He would probably never know how hard that admission was for her. Jemma Simmons was a woman of science, a woman of logic, but she was human above all else. Growing up she’d been taught by bullies that hiding her feelings would be more productive, but that was not to say she didn’t have them. Fitz had accused her of having no emotions more than once to wound her several times when they were younger and competing.  It was a long moment before she both felt and heard him sigh. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders before pulling her more fully into his chest, his fingers stilling in the maddening rhythm of circles he had been soothing into her. She bent her elbow on reflex, trying not to touch a spot she couldn’t even see as her hand landed on his sternum.

 

“I told you to use every advantage?” He asked, a sort of dread in his voice filling his tone before he’d fully settled with her leaning into his chest so completely. Having fallen into a comfortable silence, she couldn’t open her mouth to explain without the threatening tears. Skye was lying face down in her memory and she couldn’t get there to check if she had a pulse, a mad man advancing on her. Shaking her head, flattening her nose against his shoulder in the process she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, as if it would make it all the more real that she’d been forced to protect herself instead of Skye.

 

“I left her there.” Jemma hiccupped against her will, a shiver taking hold of her form that had nothing to do with cold. After another moment of silence, Ward began his soothing circles once more, seeming to know what it did to her. Even though it did wonders for her frayed nerves, he could not hide the tightening of very nearly every muscle in his body as she knew he comprehended what she was not saying. It seemed he had no words of comfort left, a miracle he had the ones he’d offered at all. He gave her very nearly an hour of quiet comfort where he must have expected her to fall asleep before Jemma felt her eyes start to close no matter how she fought.

 

“I made the mistake, Simmons. Not you. I should not have stepped into that hallway, but there was not enough space to pull you through and get a clean shot off to a target I didn’t have a visual on. I made the call to leave cover, I got myself shot. Not you. I needed a clean shot and there was not enough of an opening. It was a risk I am trained to take, and I’m charged with your safety on this plane, from aliens, from Shield…and anyone else…that may seem to be Shield.” His voice hitched before continuing, “I told you before you would have too…Skye made a mistake turning her back on someone she didn’t know because they wore a badge she idealizes. You did what I trained you to do and we are all alive because you. Come with me.” Ward spoke with conviction and Jemma was left feeling insecure as he maneuvered them both out into the hall. She wiped hurriedly at her face, tear stains the least of her embarrassment in the over-head lighting. Thankfully her British sense of decorum saved her an unintentional wardrobe malfunction, but she still crossed her arms over her button down night shirt. It had been a present from Fitz shortly after they had joined the Bus. Well, more like her sky diving adventure. She’d been looking to feel safe, and Fitz was home to her. He’d not even questioned her choice of sleepwear or when it disappeared from his bunk. She suspected part of the safe feeling she’d been craving had worn away the longer she held onto it, Fitz’s smell of oil and the metallic scents of titanium or aluminum she was never sure, having long faded.

 

Jemma reached behind her for Ward’s crutches, marveling at the fact they had not fallen when she entered Ward’s bunk. She narrowed her eyes, noticing despite herself that he seemed to have placed them as a sort of booby trap, and they had upon further inspection, fallen when she entered. It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed. Ward rolled his eyes when she insisted on them, feeling more settled she even managed a stern glare until he took them with a huff. The soft clinking sound of the metal meeting floor that Fitz would be sure to fix the instant Ward let him, was easy enough to follow toward Skye’s bunk. Jemma raised her hand to Ward’s bicep about to apologize for her panic and disturbing him when he knocked on the metal before them.

 

“We shouldn’t bother her. I’m dreadfully sorry to have…” Jemma started before the metal release hissed more quickly than expected, and she gritted her teeth to stop the memories from barreling down on her.

 

“Yeah?” Skye groaned, still in the clothes from earlier strangely, but Jemma let it go as she was about to apologize once more, realizing exactly what she had just done. Embarrassment and self-mortification settled in her stomach when she realized she’d just crawled in bed with WARD in the throes of panic from her nightmare.

 

“Are you alive?” Ward asked Skye, sagging onto his crutches, a clear sign of his exhaustion to both women that frowned at him. Skye looked between Jemma and Ward, the sleep leaving her eyes in favor of worry.

 

“Um…unless Fitz figured out how to replace me with a robot, I think so…” Skye drew out, seeming unsure which seemed to frustrate Ward by his eye roll. Skye locked her eyes on Jemma after a moment of awkward silence. It was after Jemma shifted on her feet; crossing her arms over her chest protectively that Skye finally noticed her state.

 

“Have you been crying?” Skye called in alarm, instantly wrapping the scientist in her arms unlike Ward had. Jemma tried to shrug off the woman’s concern, but sighed at the physical comfort she still partially craved.

 

“She feels guilty for leaving you with Valriz.” Ward simply declared, Jemma now dreading her panic induced actions. She would have to think twice before trusting Ward with a secret, intentional or not for a while.

 

“What?! Come on Simmons, what were you supposed to do? Drag me out by my hair?! The guy was gonna kill you!” Skye reassured her friend without second thought, rubbing her hands up and down Jemma’s arms seeking eye contact. Jemma couldn’t quite meet her eyes and Skye gave Ward a worried look over her head as she all but yanked the woman back into her arms.

 

“Right well…I think I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself for one night. I mean really what was I thinking?” Jemma tried to laugh but it came out forced and they both noticed but didn’t say anything. “I think I will go check on Fitz before I try to sleep. I imagine we will be hearing the sounds of repairs sooner than any of us would like. I apologize for causing such a scene. I mean quite seriously it was just a nightmare, how silly.” Jemma tried to shrug as she stepped backward in the hall, purposefully ignoring the left side of the hall with her vision as she made her way to Fitz’s bunk, knowing not looking at the blood stain didn’t make it disappear. The further down the hall the more perplexed she became in her gut reaction to seek out Ward, let alone that he’d let her lay there with him until she stopped crying. She missed Ward’s retreat into their briefing room as she keyed in Fitz’s code. A small smile finally graced her face at the peaceful snore that met her entrance. He hadn’t a care in the world, and despite herself she wanted to keep it that way. With a deep breath, Jemma shut Fitz’s door and suppressed the urge to check on Coulson and May. She did not want to alert her superior officers to her situation just yet, and  she tried to reassure herself that if anyone on this plane was fine it was the two senior agents. Lying back down on her bed, Jemma turned her vision out the window. She tried to will away her senses, really they did no good. Everything smelled of copper, and her hands were red no matter how she willed away the dead faces of their team.

 

 

Fitz was surprisingly the first one to reprimand Ward for sleeping on the chair in the lounge the next morning, out of concern of course though he’d never admit it before going to the lab after a glare from the Specialist. Coulson followed close behind with a comment about furthering his restricted duty. However, May simply took in his position before grabbing hold of Coulson’s elbow, easing the man into a contemplative quiet moment. The two senior agents shared a look and if Ward had been a lesser man, he might have blushed as they both looked at Simmons door and then left without another word. He suspected they knew exactly what he was doing playing sentry outside the scientist’s door. The security footage had wiped any chance of sleep from him even if he’d prepared her for it; he wasn’t prepared for not having been there and it was just sinking in. Their lives were his job, not hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Ward POV at the end, he might get the next chapter...*evil smirks*


	4. The Hub

In her exhaustion Simmons slept through the landing of the Bus, but when the efficient Hub agents began welding and drilling below her head she jolted awake. She calmed herself after a few moments and became mortified with her actions the night before as she rubbed her still stinging eyes. With a sigh, Jemma laid in bed longer than she should have. She was fully aware she was expected at the debrief with Valriz’s superiors first thing. As she finally managed to pull herself from bed and change at the sounds of six or seven work boots stomping down the hallway she wondered why no one had retrieved her. Choosing a baby blue blouse and her typical flats, Jemma tied her hair with the hair tie that took her attention for a brief moment. It had not left her wrist in quite a while. Shaking her attention back to the sloppy bun she sighed at herself.

“Jem?” Fitz knocked on her door, his voice just barely audible over the sounds of repairs as if he wasn’t quite sure she was awake. She opened the door with a soft smile for her oldest friend in his misguided attempt not to wake her himself. 

“Good morning, Fitz. Have they sent for us yet? As I imagine the higher ups do, of course. Who are we that our time would mean anything compared to a level seven.” She attempted to joke, trying to squash her insecurities from her stomach. Fitz snorted, more for her benefit than anything else as the awkwardness between them lingered silently. 

“Yeah, it’s not like we’re trying to cure cancer or anything, right?” He mirrored her small smile as they lapsed into easy conversation on their way out of the Bus. Jemma and Fitz were side tracked from their destination briefly by the sight of May directing the repairs to the Bus. After they had apologized twice for being in the way of workmen trying to get out of May’s way they continued into the Hub. 

“Authoritative Management?” Jemma suggested as she and Fitz once more lapsed into easy conversation, something she didn’t realize she’d missed in the last few days, trying to describe the dictator behavior they’d just witnessed as Agent May was meticulous.

“Yeah, May? The Calvary had me up six hours ago to rewire a system that was perfectly fine to start with.” Skye gripped as they crossed into the Hub’s lobby for their passes. Jemma was startled when Skye wrapped her arms around her without hesitation in a brief hug before moving away just as quickly. Fitz raised an eyebrow over Skye’s shoulder but wisely said nothing as Jemma couldn’t meet either’s eye. She attempted to open her mouth and reassure Skye she was fine before the woman linked her arm with Jemma’s and beat her to it.

“Yeah, so after that lovely morning, imagine my delight when mister hop along commanded I wait in the lobby as he and Coulson just strolled right past that damn magnet claiming they would come get me when it was time…two hours ago. I swear if the benefits package wasn’t so great I would so be back in my van. At least then I could get a decent bagel without being pulled to the wall for getting to close to the kitchen. I mean really what does Shield think I’m going to do? Hack a doughnut?” Skye gripped and Jemma found herself marveling at the lightheartedness the young woman managed to ease her with.

“Probably more worried about the butter knives.” Fitz threw in as the three wandered to a corner as people continually moved and grunted in irritation at having to walk four feet around them. Skye left her arm linked in Jemma’s and if she was honest with herself it made her feel a little better. Skye had surpassed coworker in her mind, as had Fitz so long ago. She doubted she had ever had a girlfriend close enough she would consider a sister until she didn’t mind Skye leaving her computer on her work desk months ago.  
“Oh what, I’m so dangerous I can take over the Hub with a butter knife? Damn didn’t know my own strength, go me!” Skye pumped her fist in the air, gaining a small laugh from Fitz and a tilting of Jemma’s lips upward. Jemma saw Coulson before he spoke simply because she had her back to the wall as the other two were facing each other but it brought a snicker out of her when he startled Skye and Fitz.

“Never underestimate the power of trans fats.” Coulson joked, running his pass card over the wrist dangling through Jemma’s arm. When there was a faint click Skye gapped at their commanding officer. “I’d rather not have to override every door from here to the debrief.” He shrugged, picking the bracelet from the floor and crooking a finger for them to follow him. Simmons and Fitz shared a look of affection as Skye began dancing behind Coulson, stopping instantly when he glanced back at them at the first doorway. Simmons and Fitz covered their laughter at the overly innocent expression she shot Coulson but they did not miss the chuckle from the older man. 

Unfortunately the humor was short lived the closer they came to the conference room holding the internal affairs briefing. Coulson held the door open for them as all four became serious. Simmons’ tried not to fidget as she dragged her feet behind everyone else to be the last one in the room. Four people turned their eyes toward their entrance. She couldn’t help but cringe at Sitwell’s lingering gaze. She tried to give him her best innocent smile as she sat between Fitz and Skye at the end of the oblong table. Coulson seated himself to the left of the table, directly across Ward separating them from the intimidating woman Simmons remembered all too well. Hand asked about May to the general room before Coulson answered that she would be along shortly. He made a joke about the Bus and bullet holes but Jemma found she barely heard it as her eyes shifted between the commanding officers wondering which one was going to be advocating for Valriz. A novice at internal investigations she knew without a doubt that someone would have to play devil’s advocate here since an Agent was dead at the hands of another agent, or in this case plural agents. 

“Well, I don’t see why we can’t start then.” Sitwell declared and Jemma found herself calling on all her professional demeanor to simply clasp her hands together beneath the table. She fell into her test mode without thinking about it, serious and detached as she preferred herself. There was something to be said for being objective.

“I assume we all know each other?” Sitwell gestured around the table halfheartedly, not bothering to lift his head from the report in front of him she assumed Coulson had finished sometime yesterday.

“Actually, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. There are some awfully beautiful women here I think I’d remember.” The man to Ward’s right chuckled, earning a smirk from Skye. Jemma ignored the playful elbow to her lower ribs, thankful she’d put Skye on her uninjured side.

“Garrett, this is Skye. Agent Simmons and Agent Fitz.” Coulson introduced to Sitwell’s irritation as he sighed outwardly. Jemma did her best to ignore the awkwardness in the air before she nodded to the smiling man, but nearly gaped when he slapped Ward’s right arm.

“Still surrounded by beautiful women I see. Well let’s get this underway shall we? Valriz was an asshole but I doubt he acted alone.” Garrett declared as he leaned back in his chair, the perfect picture of ease. It was Hand that reminded him they had yet to establish what had actually happened yet.

“Oh come on, Victoria you really think Coulson, May, and Ward would shoot an agent because they felt like it? You watched the same surveillance tape I did…” Garrett waved his hand in the woman’s direction that earned him a sneer before he snapped his chair back up, “And might I say I’ve never seen a scientist with more balls.” He winked at her and for some reason Jemma found herself both grateful for his praise but hesitant to accept it. She wondered out of the three level eight’s excluding Coulson had formally been Valriz’s commanding officer.

“Thank you sir…I think.” She tried for a small dose of humor as Fitz stiffened beside her, but Jemma did not let herself worry about him just then. 

“As to that, Agent Simmons why did you not attempt to disarm your attacker? By all rights you certainly did not look to be a victim in that tape.” Sitwell accused and Jemma found fury overriding her indignation. However, it was Ward that beat her to the punch.

“I have been training the noncombat ready members of Coulson’s team. Agent Simmons has shown great improvement over the last month; however she executed her training well. Distract and escape. She is a capable scientist but not skilled in the art of combat as you’ll note in my field reports. Fitz, Simmons, and Skye are not field certified as I objected to months ago.” He droned, not even looking in her direction to see the indignation flaring back up.

“If I may speak on my own behalf which I’m very well capable of doing, I assure you. My priority was to destroy the bioweapon Valriz was after. As I’m sure you are aware the Ricin rounds we recovered and were transferring to the Sandbox at the time were located in my biohazard containment facility within the lab where Skye and I were attacked.” Jemma began, intending to continue before Sitwell interrupted her to her annoyance.

“Was it secured? Locked up?” He snipped and Jemma held her tongue from stammering.

“Yes, however it’s a fingerprint analyzes system and he’d already knocked out Skye. As such he could have gained access to any secure storage in the communal space.” She explained, the words leaving her mouth before her mind caught up since she knew something in her had to have known that at the time but she’d never actually thought about it as she’d launched herself at the cabinet when Skye fell. As her mind became side tracked with the what if’s of her actions Jemma didn’t realize she’d started fidgeting until Skye nudged her foot with her own unhelpfully in what she assumed was an attempt to keep her fear at bay.

“Which is why you took it out of its secure storage?” Garrett prompted waving a hand with a smile tearing her eyes from Sitwell’s narrowed gaze.

“Yes, I knew it was what he would be after given his involvement in securing the technology and if I left the lab or allowed him to move me from where I was he would have been able to use Skye’s finger prints to gain access to it. The Ricin virus is…” She began, not realizing she had switched into a lecture on the properties of the deadly virus until Garrett laughed five minutes later.

“Okay, Agent Simmons I think we get the fact you’re smarter than everyone in here but can you go back to the part about why you took out the bioweapon?” Garrett continued to smirk, squeaking his chair as he leaned back precariously. Jemma frowned, patting Fitz’s knee on reflex as he opened his mouth to defend her intelligence and his own against “simpletons” as they’d labeled their bullies in college.

“Right, well I knew if he opened the storage and got the bullets he would turn them on me or…my team.” She sighed, letting Skye grab her hand under the table but only for a brief squeeze.

“So you came to the conclusion to destroy them? Did you know the whereabouts of your team at that moment?” Hand jumped in, as Sitwell wrote something down to Jemma’s curiosity.

“No. I knew Fitz went to bed.” She paused to tilt her head reassuringly in Fitz’s direction to her right before continuing, “I assumed everyone else was in bed as well.”

“So you implemented the training received from Agent Ward?” Hand declared raising an eyebrow but even though she blushed, Jemma forced herself to keep her eyes on Hand.

“Yes, Agent Ward has instructed me that my best option in a fight is to run. Valriz was a level five agent, and while I out ranked him I assure you he did not give that a thought. I fled and was able to free Agent Ward who secured the situation.” She finished nodding her head, as Garrett snorted.

“If getting shot is securing the situation.” Garrett landed another swat to Ward’s upper back and Jemma narrowed her eyes and was hard pressed to stop herself from reprimanding her commanding officer. Though it did not seem to come as a surprise to Sitwell, who sneered at Garrett.

“Agent Garrett as I personally removed the bullets from Agent Ward’s person I would ask you not further injure him. I would rather not stich him up again as the first time was quite enough.” The room fell silent a moment before Garrett once more burst out laughing, holding his side as Coulson joined him. Even Hand it seemed couldn’t keep a small smirk from her lips. Ward for his part rolled his eyes, as it was apparent everyone in the room knew of her altercation with Sitwell. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re not armed this time Agent Simmons.” Garrett raised his hands in a surrender before the questioning turned to Skye and then shortly afterward Fitz. It was at the end of Fitz’s rather long lecture on his attempted mouse hole upgrade that had been left in the lounge that night when May joined them. Declaring the Bus would be up to par in two days. Hand dismissed the lower ranking agents to Skye’s irritation and audible cry of injustice before they found themselves sitting around the lounge of the Bus people watching as Skye’s fingers never stopped moving over the laptop she’d borrowed from Jemma. While normally Jemma had far better things to do then watch workmen pass by, Skye’s whispered comments and fabricated tales of intrigue about their lives kept her focus off the verdict of the investigation. She was simply glad they hadn’t played the surveillance tape for Skye and Fitz. As long as Ward, Coulson, or May didn’t say anything she didn’t think they really needed to know how she had ‘distracted’ Valriz. In fact she was rather proud of herself for not flinching at his name or backing down. It was slowly dawning on her that perhaps it was simply a fear of losing those closest to her that fueled her nightmares and not her own experience. As she sat quietly making small noises of understanding to Skye she wondered when bullets had become not a big deal in her life. It certainly wasn’t the first or probably the last time she’d be shot at in her life.

“You really think Shield isn’t monitoring those emails you sent to Mike and your search through Shield’s database?” Coulson sighed as he entered their small party. Skye huffed, snapping the computer shut. With a sigh Skye stuck out her bottom lip and turned her puppy eyes toward Coulson, but after a brief moment stuck out her wrist in defeat. As the bracelet beeped Skye flipped a rather obvious finger at the device behind Coulson’s back before Ward managed to clear the stairs, without his crutches to Jemma’s annoyance.

“We’ve been ordered to track down Valriz’s conspirator. When the Bus is up and ready we are headed to the Sandbox, see who he was planning on meeting. Skye, he sent some encrypted emails to someone there. That’s your homework. Fitz, I want new security measures. Start in the lab and armory; we’ll upgrade the rest as we go. If you need anything May’s point on supplies. Simmons’ you have a new budget for medical. About time. Stock the Bus with whatever you think we could ever need if this happens again. Ward…bed.” Coulson doled out the orders, sounding like an exacerbated father by the end of his orders.

“Yes Sir.” Skye teased throwing in a small salute, effectively cutting off whatever Ward was about to say. Coulson rolled his eyes before moving on, presumably to his office. Skye cracked her knuckles before opening Jemma’s laptop once more, tuning out the world. Ward hobbled to his bunk, his door still ajar as Fitz began excitedly expressing his desires to alter the Bus. He began talking about getting a guard monkey as he and Jemma reached the stairs before Jemma waved him to continue on ahead. When she was sure Fitz had descended into the lab, Jemma sucked in a breath and forced her feet to Ward’s door. She knocked, but froze as her eyes traveled the red and jagged skin the base doctors had glued together as he threw his shirt to the bed, his back to her.

“I wanted to apologize if you feel I overstepped with Agent Garrett.” She sighed, not even realizing that had been bothering her until then. Ward stiffened for a brief moment, but Jemma had seen most of Ward in their months on the Bus as it always seemed he had a new bruise to treat and wasn’t fazed by more than the redness and swelling. 

“He thought it was funny, but I did not appreciate it Agent Simmons. I have had far worse and will in the future. Do not involve yourself in my affairs, especially when you are out of rank. Is that clear Agent Simmons?” He snapped, not turning around to face her but Simmons stood a little straighter under the reprimand. 

“You might be the one taking the bullets, Agent Ward, but I’m the one that has to dig them out of you. I know every injury you have had since you started Shield and the medical evaluation done when you joined Shield. I know the bones May has broken. I know you should ask Skye about her stance instead of constantly declaring she can’t do it. I know everything there is to know about keeping our team healthy and alive and I will not apologize for protecting anyone on this team. I realize I have leaned on you in a way I should not and I wanted to assure you it will not happen again. However, if you need a pain killer from being hit in some male idiocy in the form of affection then you can find them in the second drawer on the very left in the lab. Have a nice day Agent Ward.” She grit her teeth, shaking her head as she walked down the stairs and straight to May. She had a lot of supplies on her medical wish list, and it was time she refreshed herself on her medical knowledge. Everything else could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quit watching AOS at the reveal of Hydra Ward, hence the extreme hiatus. But goes to show you that I still get the message when someone asks for a new chapter. 
> 
> Love Pixie
> 
> P.S.As always the characters don't belong to me but the typos do (get over it I do this for fun).


	5. The Cost of Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perpetually undercover, he doesn't expect them to understand his struggle.

Ward tried not to cringe as Simmons left, an angry thudding echoing down the halls as the carpet had been ripped up exposing the aluminum flooring. He'd been assured this morning that his door would be replaced and fully functional by the end of the day, but as he stood there replaying the events of the morning he felt as if a raw nerve was exposed without solitude. Inside he knew how much of an asshole he'd just been to Simmons but as much as it pained him he had to stop assuming he was far from Garrett's eye. There had only been one security camera damaged during the fire fight and with the Bus grounded at the Hub they would be on the bases system for their stay.

When he'd escorted Skye into the Hub, missing his crutches with each step he'd sat dutifully through Hand's briefing on Valrez's background, their current problems at the Sand Box, and the continued search for the centipede organization. He'd had little to contribute but the name of a contact he'd made on a mission in the Sahara right out of the Academy that dealt in the metals the group would need. He'd only really paid attention when Hand had suggested an old friend of Coulson's should get involved, only to be vehemently shot down. He knew Garrett would be interested to hear about the odd exchange but as they left he'd nearly fallen over at the unexpected and terrifying presence of the ex-mentor he'd just been thinking about reporting to. Relying on every piece of training he'd gotten over the years he'd managed not to show his surprise or trepidation as Garrett had given him and Coulson short hugs. Only then had he proceeded to taunt Grant about getting shot as only a Specialist would. When he'd sat down beside the man in the conference room, as Sitwell and Hand spoke in the hall and Coulson left to retrieve their team, all pretenses had faded and Garrett's glare had been deadly.

_"Hail Hydra." He opened with as Grant returned the mandatory greeting only to grit his teeth as Garrett's hand collided with the back of his head._

_"Damn it kid you were supposed to help him not kill him." The ailing man seethed as Ward's fist clenched and he took a deep breath instead of attack his Hydra handler._

_"He wasn't supposed to get caught either. What kind of moron gets caught by Skye and Simmons of all people? How incompetent can you get?" He rolled his eyes, both keeping an ear on the door as Sitwell's complaining was just audible. Garrett considered Ward for a long moment and Grant wasn't sure whether he was going to laugh or get shot again until Garrett's soft chuckle bubbled to the surface. The laugh lines of Garrett's face looked far more sinister to Grant than others and he almost would have preferred to be shot._

_"Was a right idiot…I'll give you that kid…but why the scientist?" He raised an eyebrow at Grant and despite his outwardly stoic appearance, Ward knew his heart was beating marginally faster at the loaded question and impending doom if he didn't play this right._

_"She's more valuable than some stupid virus bullets and you know it. I'm solidly wedged between her and Fitz. This gives my cover got more leverage if you ever wanna turn one. She's their soft spot and I'm pressing my advantage. I counted twelve fires instead of nine." Grant shrugged in a non-committal motion, his eyes staying firmly on Garrett's to convince him of his words despite his urge to look at the door on the other side of the wall. He would never make such a mistake now, but Grant hoped Garrett wouldn't call him on it since he'd made that mistake once when he was a rookie._

_"Math never was your strong suit." Garrett smirked, and Grant tried hard not to think of the time he'd counted nine dead shield agents during his time in the Academy but the screams of Garrett's men haunted his ears. Clint had encouraged him to go with Garrett and Grant would always blame himself for going. The demented man had turned it into a loyalty exercise. He would have done the same thing in Garrett's position but it had been the single hardest thing Ward had ever done. It was only made easier by the returned fire of the Shield agents that had been lured to Garrett's trap. Along with the phantom screams he could still hear Garrett laughing as he stepped up to end the lingering life of the tenth agent and reprimand him for his hesitation. A shiver pressed against his spine, but Grant willed his muscles to tense and suppress the outward sign._

_"Besides weren't you the one that asked me to keep an eye on her research? Kinda hard to find out Coulson's secret without the actual Scientist, don't you think?" Ward sneered at his ex-mentor, who was cut off from answering as Sitwell and Hand joined them._

_"I don't need to be here!" Sitwell once more whined to Hand, which had both Ward and Garrett rolling their eyes in unison. Garrett had told him once that if Sitwell hadn't been Hydra he'd have shot him long ago and at that moment Ward wouldn't have blinked an eye if he did._

_"Oh buck up, Sitwell. She's unarmed." Garrett couldn't help but tease the man, his hand coming down on Ward's right shoulder almost violently to squeeze. He showed no sign of the pain his grip caused, instead he simply raised an eyebrow and Hand tuned Sitwell's continued whining out. The way Garrett's grip held firm Ward knew without a doubt that this conversation was far from over. Hydra had wanted those weapons but it wasn't going to be a hard sell for Simmons life over them. Garrett himself had argued against Hydra involvement with Simmons beyond his presence when she attacked Sitwell. Though the tiny glint of doubt he saw flicker through Garrett's eyes was enough to secretly terrify him. It was enough that he was on Clint's shit list for not telling him about Coulson, he couldn't afford to be on Garrett's to._

Simmons herself had terrified him though out her entire debrief, but he knew he couldn't breathe an easy breath until he was clear of Garrett's contemplating eye. If it weren't for the fact that Garrett would know, Grant would have pulled out the satellite phone from his bedside table and dialed Clint and Natasha's emergency number right then. But he'd made the mistake and he had been in worse situations or so he told himself. Shutting his eyes and shaking his head Grant willed away the images he didn't have the time or energy to face right then.

But the screams of the Shield agents Garrett had demanded in a show of his loyalty would not leave his ears. Even now he couldn't believe he'd managed to sink to such a low as to blindly follow the man. He often had to sink back into the rage that had fueled him then when Hydra called, but at least now he knew it was wrong. He knew how he'd gotten there but didn't want to feel that guilt again. His sadistic older brother had turned him into something he hated long before Garrett. He could admit that to himself. No one had been pulling his strings when he had lit his house on fire in hopes of killing his tormentor and those that protected him, otherwise known as his parents. He'd stood there as the fire raged, clinging to his little brother as the six year old boy fought to run into the house. At twelve years old Grant had set himself on a path that Garrett was all too happy to lead him down. Juvenile detention fights had made him harder than he already was and by the time Garrett had offered a way out of those barbed walls he'd have killed anyone the man asked. And regretfully he had and still did to protect his cover.

He still felt a pang of agony when he thought about his little brother. Clint kept tabs on him, and as much as Grant told him he didn't want to know, he found himself still opening the annual email on his brother's birthday every year. He knew now that was the first time Clint had broken just a little of the hardened Hydra agent from his heart. By his Academy days he was firmly in the mix as a Hydra agent. He'd used the skills Garrett had taught him from the age of fourteen to rise to the top Academy cadet of his year, landing him in Clint's lap. Garrett would have shot him repeatedly until his body stopped twitching back then if he could see the future of his own actions.

Mentorships in the Academy were usually reserved for senior cadets and typically carried out by level three to four agents. Garrett had been both overly excited and overly paranoid when Grant had sent him an encrypted line telling him he would be under Clint Barton after breaking the man's gun range record in his junior year. To this day Grant wasn't sure who had made him first. If it was Clint, Natasha, his instructors, or Fury he didn't know but Clint had been the first one to call him out. Being a stupid nineteen year old with a grudge against the world he hadn't seen the signs until much later.

He should have realized the first sign was that Clint never asked about Garrett. It wasn't common place for a level eight agent to be involved with a cadet's training or life. Garrett tended to keep his distance in public and only communicate sparingly but for anyone with clearance they would know Garrett had pulled him out of Juvenile detention. He needed Shields power to pull that off to start with, let alone his early admission at the age of sixteen. The second sign should have been that Clint had suddenly taken over the Academy's fire arms program, after setting a new record on the range. The third and most important thing Grant hadn't thought twice of at the time was that while Clint was his mentor, he slowly began to see him every day.

If Garrett had been physically around the Academy then, Grant knew things would have turned out drastically different. If Grant had recognized the signs then, he knew things also would have turned out drastically different. But Clint Barton was a legend for a reason. He infiltrated Grant's life in the span of a year without the agents notice. It wasn't until Clint was taking him out to local places after hours that Garrett had demanded his sickening show of loyalty. It was after the cold blooded murder of ten good agents that he even began to question whether Hydra was truly right. Pulling the trigger on good agents, whose only crime had been following orders had made him pause. He hadn't been ready to admit what was happening even then, too blinded by rage and hatred to see the strings over his head but the seed was planted. Clint had watered that seed with events like company picnics where he saw children running around without a care and high level agents all clamored to make jokes with him at Barton's expense. A scene he had realized would never be possible in Hydra where if you offended anyone you might end up dead the next day.

Where Garrett placed demands and played on his anger, Clint slowly fostered a deeper meaning in his work for Shield. Garrett gave orders and expected them to be followed on penalty of death no matter who got in the way. That was something he had come to realize was a reality for the greater good of the mission. Clint however went out of his way on the missions they took together to avoid killing anyone he didn't have to. Perhaps the fact that Clint still didn't hesitate to kill was what made him more relatable to Grant. Learning about Budapest and Natasha Romanoff had also struck a chord, making him silently question some of the orders Garrett gave. When he was tasked with killing a janitor at the Academy one evening he'd nearly disobeyed. A first for Grant. The man was eighty seven years old and had a heart condition. Why he was a threat to Hydra or Shield he couldn't place. Only later, after he had laced the man's blood pressure medicine did he learn the man's granddaughter had refused a Hydra legacy's advance. His blood had run cold at the joking way Garrett had gossiped about it, exaggerating it to sound as if she had threatened the teenager with violence instead of simply saying no and walking away.

As his ideas of right and wrong began to sway and his abilities as a killer and spy grew he'd grown more dependent on his friendship with Clint. Clint made it easy for him, never doing more than lecture when he made a mistake that Garrett would have dragged a knife down his back for. The differences between his two mentors were striking and it was not until just before his graduation that he found himself wrestling with what side he should be on. The rage lingered and it was always easier to hate people in general. He could still pull the trigger on anyone that got in his way, but now he found himself wondering if they had children or a spouse. Clint had become the father figure he never wanted where Garrett had become more of his slave driver. Clint had broken him of his past and Grant didn't even realize it until after it was done. The most striking way he'd done so was through Grant's younger brother, the one person Garrett could never get him to turn on. The one person he would never talk about to anyone.

His relief had only been out matched by his gratitude to learn that Clint had tricked his calculating father into enrolling his little brother in a boarding school in Switzerland. But his happiness had soon turned to fear when his next breath had been to warn him against telling Garrett. They had been working out at the time; using a safe house Clint had called The Retreat. Clint had raised his gloved hands and encouraged Grant to punch even as he casually explained that he'd been keeping tabs on the boy from "dangerous manipulative influences". He'd stared at the picture of Natasha and his young brother for weeks afterward as his independent study at The Retreat continued. The assassin had one arm around his brother's shoulders causing the young boy to blush crimson as the woman's hair. It was clear from the image that the two knew each other, or at least Natasha knew his brother. When he became consumed with conflicting thoughts and drew into himself afterward was when Clint finally confronted him.

" _Kid, you're gonna give yourself an ulcer worrying about what Hydra or I will and won't do." He simply blurted out as the man jumped over the couch and popped the top on the soda he'd grabbed from the safe house kitchen. Grant violently turned his head from staring out of the bullet proof and reinforced windows of the Retreat. His heart skipped several beats as Clint simply picked up the remote and proceeded to flip the television channel. He couldn't say anything even as his mind whirled with lies he could tell or half-truths he could spin…but this was Clint Barton…his friend and his mentor._

" _I get it. I'd be worried to, but what do I always say? Worry gets ya nowhere." Clint shrugged, letting out a small exclamation of triumph when the television landed on a home improvement show. It wasn't as if Grant didn't want to say something, but still he had no idea what to say as his blood began to run cold._

" _Look, if I was gonna kill you I'd have done it, don't ya think? There's pepto in the fridge, take a swing." Clint huffed, rolling his eyes at the expression of trepidation on his charge's face. Grant continued to grip the armrests beneath his fingers, even as the recliner creaked and the weight of his gun became heavy at his hip…_

Shaking his head with a deep sigh Grant turned back to the present. He pulled the lone drawer of his end table open and stared at the satellite phone. As he reached inside he tried to imagine what Clint would say to him if he did call. His voicemail SO lecture had been more about the fact he hadn't told them about Coulson than anything else. Though he knew the man was still mad at him he knew he wasn't vindictive and wouldn't leave him to hang, unlike Garrett. Fury had given him direct instructions not to involve Clint and Natasha in his time on the plane. Natasha hadn't bought his lie about a length of time away from his double agent status at the time he'd joined the bus any more than Clint had. But both had respected his space since he stepped on the cargo bay of the bus to be assaulted by Simmons cheek swab. Though now that they knew, he had a feeling he was expected to disregard Fury's order.

Instead of grab his life line, he pulled out the oxycodone he had stashed and twisted the bottle open before falling heavily on his bunk. Swallowing the pain reliever without a thought of water he flopped down on his bunk with a definitive lack of grace. He threw an arm over his forehead and let out a heavy sigh as the past would not stay away.

"That was rude you know." Skye admonished him from the open doorway and Grant barely stopped the slew of curse words on his lips from escaping. Instead he chose not to answer her as he willed his shoulder to stop aching and his mind to go blank.

"Hello, Mr. Robot! Do you even care? Simmons is probably the only one on this plane that cares enough to put up with your moodiness! Maybe you shouldn't be so much of a jerk." Skye crossed the open threshold, folding her arms across her chest and glaring down at his prone figure. He knew he would regret it as his mouth opened but he also reminded himself there was a reason he kept them all at a distance for perhaps the millionth time since he met this team. He needed Garrett to believe they weren't as accepting as they seemed or he'd be right back at the man's side and they would all be dead. It was a constant battle for him to stay unattached, even if in his heart he knew he'd wind up dead protecting the unassuming Shield agents around him. The only blessing he had in this entire situation was there wasn't any Audio to screw him over.

"Maybe you should have paid more attention when I taught you never to turn your back on someone you don't know. If you had Simmons wouldn't have needed to defend herself or feel guilty for leaving you for dead." He snapped, lowering his forearm to glare at Skye, firm in his resolve even if his gut clenched at the sudden flash of pain that shot through her gaze before it was gone and she was closed off to him.

"You're an asshole. You know that?" She seethed, lowering her arms and leaving his bunk with an almost identical thudding as Simmons echoing after her. He assumed she was going to join the other woman in the lab.

"So I've been told." He groaned as he closed his eyes once more and tried to relax and will the faces of those that had trusted him away until Coulson popped his head in not five minutes later.

"Making friends?" He chuckled and Ward seriously considered shooting him in frustration before he rolled to his feet, still in a massive amount of pain.

"What do you need Sir?" He bit his tongue and by Coulson's raised eyebrow he knew Phil thought his predicament was a little funny. Ward knew a way to wipe that smirk off his face but as he didn't feel like getting killed saying, Hail Hydra he simply sat there and stared at his commanding officer. He was well aware of Clint and Natasha's love for this man, and now having been under his command he could understand why. But right at that moment he'd have given anything for twenty four hours of uninterrupted solitude.

"Garrett offered you a bunk on his Quin-Jet." Phil offered and Ward stared blankly at him. The man did not realize the hell his innocent attempt to help was about to heap on Ward and Grant couldn't even tell him.

"Good, when do we take off?" He asked instead perpetually undercover as he was already gathering his go bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn't able to stop the wince of pain as the bag caught on his shoulder, or the slight awkwardness in his movements. He saw the worry and concern flitter across Coulson's face, but then a small smile took its place as Ward assumed he thought he was doing something good for him in getting him off the plane for a night. Ward let him think that as he was lightly patted on the back and set on his way down the cargo bay with orders to return at eight the next morning. He didn't have to look behind him at the lab to know both Simmons and Skye were in there glaring daggers at his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to be Grant Ward. There are two sides to every story.
> 
> I caught myself up on the show and I swear Grant Ward...they destroyed everything I liked about him as a character and as a would be villain. I feel like Ward wasn't human anymore after Hydra came out well before he got taken over by an alien inhuman whatever. So, yeah Hydra and some elements of other seasons mixed in later but none of this complete 180 crap for Ward. I miss the first season so much more now.


End file.
